


What Are You Doing New Years?

by ReaperWriter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Secret Santa, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Holidays, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaperWriter/pseuds/ReaperWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma had an idea of what her first New Year's Eve with a boyfriend should be.  When things don't go according to plan, Killian makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are You Doing New Years?

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr Captain Swan Secret Santa Swap, a gift for Colourfulmoniker-Hook! Happy holidays!

  
This wasn’t what Emma had in mind for her first holiday season with a real, honest to god, boyfriend.  Her time with Neal all those years ago hadn’t stretched to include winter, and she hadn’t met Walsh until mid-January in the last year (which didn’t even count as a real boyfriend experience, because, well, flying freaking monkey). 

She had imagined walks in the snow, and cocoa at Granny’s, and trimming the tree at her parents, and a New Years spent together with the whole kiss at midnight.  Instead, she was chasing around through the woods, again, after yet another villain hell bent on...crap, she wasn’t even sure.  So there hadn’t really been carols or stockings or much beyond a quick pasta dinner Mary Margaret had thrown together in honor of Christmas.  And now that it was New Year’s Eve, she was here, freezing, in the middle of nowhere.

Just then, her foot caught on a root, and she went sprawling forward through the swirling snow.  “Dammit!”

“Emma!” She heard movement as Killian pushed through the brush toward her.  “Are you all right?”

She pushed herself up and tried to stand, only to fall again.  “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Killian was beside her in a moment, wrapping his arms around her.  “Can you use your magic, love?  Get us back to town?”

Emma closed her eyes, trying to draw on the warmth of him holding her, the feeling of safety and peace it always gave her.  But at the moment, she was cold, wet, tired, and now in pain, and she couldn’t seem to draw up enough magic to do much of anything.  “Shit…no, I can’t.  I’m sorry.”

Killian kissed her softly.  “It’s all right, love.  I saw a cabin a little ways off.  We’ll make for that and give you a chance to rest.  We’ll head back in the morning.”  He scooped her up and carried her back the way they had come.

Fifteen minutes later, she had managed enough magic to unlock the door on the little hunter’s retreat.  Killian had set her on a chair and helped her out of her wet shoes, looking carefully at her ankle.  “Just twisted, love, not sprained, I think.”  Then he had dug around in the wood box, laying a fire into the old stone fireplace and getting it lit with a flint and striker from the mantle.

Soon, there was a merry blaze going, the three oil lamps in the room were lit and glowing, and he was warming up some canned stew he had found in a cabinet.  He had gotten them both out of their wet clothes, leaving them in the long underwear that Mary Margaret had insisted on. He had also found an old hot water bottle and packed it with snow, setting it on her ankle.  Emma watched him and marveled again at how capable he could be at times like this.  This cabin, lacking in electricity, hadn’t phased him at all.  She wondered, if she had been alone, whether she would be coping nearly as well.

He turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow.  “What are you thinking about, love?”

Emma smiled at him.  “I’m glad you’re here.  Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Where else would I be?”  He rose, using his hook to carry the small cast iron pot to the little dinner table and dishing the warmed stew into two bowls.

“Well, I had hoped you and I would be out, enjoying a romantic New Year’s Eve.”  She saw his look of slight confusion.  “In this realm, couples celebrate the coming of the New Year.  Usually there is dinner and dancing, and champagne.  And a kiss at midnight.”

“Ah, I see.”  He handed her a spoon.  “Well, it’s not the Italian trattoria at the docks, love, but we’re having a nice dinner by fire light.”

She laughed then, and tucked into her stew.  They ate in companionable quiet, the hiss and pop of the logs in the fire place making its own kind of music.  After they were done, Killian gave the dishes a quick rinse, then rejoined her where she sat, starring into the fire.  “How’s the ankle, love?”

“Better.”  Emma stood, putting weight on it.  It was sore, but not impossible.  “You’re right, I don’t think it was sprained.”

“Good.”  Suddenly, the sound of Frank Sinatra came from the table, a little bit tinny from the speakers on Killian’s phone.  She suspected Henry had been helping him with his music library.  “Dance with me, Swan.”

She turned to find his hand held out to her, and a grin like the Cheshire cat.  Taking it, she let him draw her to him and wrap his arms around her.  He was warm and solid and he smelled good for having been hiking around in the woods for hours.  The slight tang of salt, and leather, and the scent of wood smoke from getting the fire going all clung to him.

One song turned into two, which turned into five before she had to stop.  They ended up sitting on the futon in the room, laid down into a bed, watching the fire crackle and sipping rum from his flask.  “It may not be champagne and a fancy ballroom, love,” Killian said, pressing a kiss into her hair.  “But I must say, you and I, alone and undistracted is pretty nice as well.”

“We are, aren’t we?”  Emma reached out, taking the nearly empty flask and setting it on a little table next to the futon.  Then she leaned over and wrapped her hand around his necklace, pulling him to her.

“Why Emma, it’s not midnight yet.”  Killian was smiling widely at her.

“Don’t care.” And then her lips were on his, the kiss passionate almost to the point of bruising.  Killian groaned against her mouth as her tongue slid past his lips, dancing against his and tasting rum and stew and him.

In a flash, she was in his lap.  Their thermals and underwear were gone, a brief flash of magic Emma was finally able to summon up now that her mood was vastly improved making them reappear folded across the room.  She could feel him, already hard and wanting against the juncture of her thighs, and she ground down against him, seeking friction.

“Gods above, Emma.” His words were a hiss pressed against the spot just below her ear that made heat flood through her.  “Love, if you keep doing that…”

She cut him off, lifting her hips and then taking him into her already slick tightness.  They both groaned in unison as she sank down until they were pressed entirely together, his pelvis rubbing against her deliciously.  She held them there for a long moment, then moved, skipping past gentle and setting a punishing pace.  He met her on every thrusts, leveraging himself up and into her, hitting her deep.  They were quickly breathing hard, words almost impossible as they moved together, moans and sighs and whimpers filling the quiet of the cabin.

“Emma, love, I’m…Gods.”  Killian’s voice was wrecked and his movements were unsteady as Emma grabbed his hand and drew it between them, pressing it just above their joining.  The pressure and his words were like key turning in a lock, and she felt herself shatter, shuddering around him as bright white light flashed in her vision.  Vaguely she felt his lips on hers and his body thrusting through her release for a few moments more before his hips stuttered and warm heat filled her.

Killian collapsed backward, pulling her down with him to rest on top of him, still joined as he softened inside her.  His hand came up and carded her hair back away from her face.  “Far better than a crowded ballroom.”  His lips pressed against the corner of hers as her forehead leaned into his.  “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you too.”  Her own words were soft and sleepy, and with a flick of her hand, a warm quilt covered them both.  “Happy New Year, Killian.”


End file.
